


Getting Perspective

by lumbeam



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Banter, Bickering, F/M, Gen, Married Life, Pegging, Therapy, michael de santa please go down on your wife challenge, middle aged men ennui, purely written as wish fulfillment that they get along...lol...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:02:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28533360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumbeam/pseuds/lumbeam
Summary: There was a full page article that Amanda put a big star next to.“Pegging: No Butts About It!”Michael closed the magazine and gave his wife a look. “Amanda.”“...Michael.” She said expectantly.“What are you doing?”“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She gave him a wry smile. “I just thought it was something we could try.”
Relationships: Amanda De Santa/Michael De Santa, Prior Michael De Santa/Trevor Philips
Comments: 14
Kudos: 29





	Getting Perspective

**Author's Note:**

> (checks calendar) The last time I wrote GTA fic was in 2016. A lot has happened since then. 
> 
> 2020 was weird. I replayed the game in the late fall (early November to be exact...wonder why i was stressed out!!!!!!!) and I found I had more to say about the two of them. I love them, I hate them. Amanda deserves the world. 
> 
> Enjoy <3

Michael stepped out of the shower, toweling himself off. It was late fall in Los Santos, and he’d officially been in the city long enough to get chilled when the weather dropped below 65 degrees. Hell, in North Yankton, it never got _above_ 50 degrees it seemed. He opted for his pajama pants and shirt instead of his usual boxers and slung the towel on the rack.

He stepped into the bedroom, stretching his arms overhead. Amanda was in bed, absentmindedly scrolling on her phone. “Don’t say it.”

“Say what?”

“I _know_ I shouldn’t be on my phone before bed.” She rolled her eyes. “That I should limit my screen time, practice healthy sleep hygiene, all that stuff.”

In a bit of irony, Michael checked his phone on the bedside table. Only an email from Sol. He’ll get that in the morning. “Mandy, I wasn’t going to say anything.”

She locked her phone and put it face down on her table. “I just know you hate when I toss and turn.”

This was true. Michael was a light enough sleeper over years of paranoia (both warranted and unwarranted) that if Amanda couldn’t sleep, he couldn't sleep. Hopefully for tonight he’ll pass right out. “I’ll be fine.”

He finally directed his attention to the magazine on his side of the bed. It was kind of a sleazy women’s magazine, always promoting things like “25 ways to make your man nut so hard he forgets his grandparents!” or “75 new positions that will help you reach enlightenment!” Amanda never read them when they were back in the midwest, probably since they didn’t exactly have enough money to spare for things like that. Now they had more than enough. Michael probably had enough to buy the publisher. “Pretty sure this goes on _your_ side of the bed.” Michael tossed the magazine gently over to her side. 

“Oh!” Amanda said, almost as if she forgot about it being there. “There’s something in it I want you to read.”

Michael pulled the blankets back and settled into bed. “What, other sex positions? We already got the Kama Sutra, what else do we need?” When Amanda first moved back in, she mentioned that in order to make the relationship work, Michael would have to be open to new ideas (“within reason,” as she told him). She stole the Kama Sutra from Fabien’s house, figuring it would be a good severance package. The night they had sex since they forgave each other was just _okay_ , if a little awkward. It took a while for them to remember how it was, getting used to each other’s bodies again. It had been so long since the last time they had sex, at the lowest of their marriage it was _maybe_ once a month. And even then, neither of them really enjoyed it. Things were...different now, better by a mile, but that’s more of a statement to how they were _before_.

“It’s--” Amanda looked at the cover of the magazine and sighed. “Oh, never mind. Another time since you’re in a mood.”

“I’m not in a _mood_ ,” Michael scoffed. “I just don’t know what you get out of magazines like that.”

“You haven’t even _read_ them!” She seemed offended on the magazine’s behalf.

“I know you shouldn’t ‘judge a book by its cover,’ or whatever, but if one of the headlines is ‘bout--” He squinted at the magazine. “‘Vaginal rejuvenation techniques,’ I don’t think it’s exactly _for_ me.”

“They just started a men’s section.” Amanda plopped the magazine on the floor in a huff. “Which is the section I _wanted_ you to read.”

“I’ll read it _later_ .” Michael placated, not wanting to start a fight before bed. He’d done that before, many, _many_ times. And every time it was a mistake.

“You promise?” Amanda looked over at him with a soft expression. 

“Yes, dear.” Michael clicked off the light. “I promise.”

\--

The magazine showed up again a couple nights later. Amanda even left a bookmark (some old receipt of sorts) to assist in Michael finding _just_ where he needed to read. 

“Oh, right.” Michael sighed, completely forgetting the magazine’s existence. “This.” 

“You’re going to read it?”

Despite him not wanting to, the sooner he’d do it, the sooner she’d be off his case about it. He settled into bed with a slight groan. He spent most of the day running around the set to make sure the talent (“talent”) was taken care of. He felt more like a personal assistant than a producer. Maybe Sol could set him up with an intern or something so he wouldn’t have to race around. His poor body couldn’t do this forever. Michael picked up the magazine and flipped it to the bookmarked section. It was near the back of the magazine, titled “Men’s Only Section.”

There was a full page article that Amanda put a big star next to. 

“Pegging: No Butts About It!” There was a delicate line drawing of a woman wearing a strap on right next to an equally delicate line drawing of a man bending over. 

Michael closed the magazine and gave his wife a look. “Amanda.”

“...Michael.” She said expectantly.  
  
“What are you doing?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She gave him a wry smile. “I just thought it was something we could try.”

“When I made the agreement to try new things, I was thinkin’ you’d suggest stuff like,'' he thought for a moment. “I dunno, restraints or, or a sex swing or somethin’.”

“In due time.” Amanda curled up on his side of the bed to try to make him relax. “I just saw it and I thought I would ask.”

“How long have you thought about this, Mand?”

“A week, I think. I did some--” she glanced at her phone on the table. “Research.”

“Oh, I’m sure it was _very_ scientific.”

“It looked fun,” she shrugged, then tapped at the magazine. “The magazine also discusses the importance of prostate orasms in older men.” 

Michael looked down at the magazine like it was a viper about to attack him. “Or you just want to couch it in _science_ when really all you want to do is fuck me up the ass, is that it?”

“It can be both.” She said softly. “Just think about it. We do something I want to do, you do something you want to do.”

“Does that mean--”

“ _No_. Not a threesome. You remember what happened last time!”

Michael opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. That was a mess. 

“Besides, I think it’s too soon if we opened up the bedroom like that again.”

“Yeah, and soon enough there will be another prick fucking you in this bed. If you’re going to do that, could you at least change the sheets before I come home?”

Amanda rolled her eyes. “I’m just asking to _peg_ you, I’m not trying to destroy everything we worked towards!”

Loathe as he was to admit it, they’d been going to couples therapy since Dr. Friedlander skipped town (he was too slippery for Michael to catch him, the fuck) and it was actually _helping_ . Their therapist was an older woman named Dr. Simmons. She was very into openness, even if it meant the two of them screaming at each other for the fifty minute sessions. They established more of an open line of communication, since Dr. Simmons constantly reassured them there was no wrong way to talk to each other, so long as they were talking and being open. Matter of fact, in recent weeks, they’ve been more structural in their visits, forgoing airing their grievances (of which there are less, _much_ less than before) and even delving into their respective childhoods and how it affected their parenting style. It’s been...painful, but they’ve certainly become more close since it started.

Michael scrunched up his face. “I’ll think about it.”

Amanda kissed him on the cheek. “That’s all I want.”

“Why do I feel like that ain’t the truth?”

“Just read the article.” She pushed the magazine back towards Michael.

He reluctantly opened it back to the “Men’s Only” section. He skimmed the article, truth be told, having heard about the practice from Trevor _years_ ago. It turned out he met a girl at a bar whose _thing_ was pegging. Michael never really got with anyone who had a _thing_ like that. Sure, maybe a few girls like to be tied up or something, but nothing involved pegging. It wasn’t called pegging back in the 90s; he seemed to remember Trevor calling it “punting,” or something along those lines. Now Michael was curious about Trevor’s experience with it, surely something he’d find as vanilla as all get out. 

He skipped to the testimonies.

_“The first time my girlfriend pegged me, I came so hard I passed out and hit my head on the coffee table! Ended up in the hospital, but totally worth it.” - Tony, 28_

_“My wife and I have done a lot of things in our time, but nothing is as good as getting pegged. I love feeling so submissive to her strap!” - Albert, 49_

_“I come buckets every time my partner and I do it! Like, seriously, I should have a doctor check out how much I shoot. It’s freakish!” - Josh, 21_

“Well?” Amanda asked, keeping an eye on where he was on the page.

He also remembered what Trevor said when he came back to the hotel the next morning.  
  
 _“Mikey, you’re not going to believe this! She made me come_ hands free _! I never could do that on my own!”_

Overall, not bad odds. “Promise you’ll go easy on me?”

“Of course! Why would I ever be mean to you?”

“You sure as hell got a lot of reason to.”

“Oh, I know, but that’s why we have Dr. Simmons.”

“I guess so.” Michael closed the magazine and tossed it off the bed. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to be able to sleep tonight.

\--

He was right.

\--

“You okay, man?” Franklin asked him. It had been a couple weeks since they last saw each other, so they decided to meet up at a restaurant near Vinewood Hills. Kind of pricey, but the specials were pretty good. 

Michael dragged a hand over his face. “Yeah, just the usual shit.”

Franklin laughed humorlessly. “Which part of the ‘usual shit?’ The part where you break your favorite club, or the part where you discover your stocks are going down?”  
  
He couldn’t even roll his eyes at that since they were previous examples of his whining. “Nah, nothing like that.” He took a bite of his steak. It had already gone cold, he was so out of sorts. “Marriage stuff.”

“You weren’t kidding when you said the ‘usual shit,’ then. We gotta pull someone else’s house off a cliff or something?”

Michael shook his head. “Not exactly.”

“Well that’s good.” Frank took a drink of his beer. “I wouldn’t help you with that shit again anyway.”

“Don’t blame you one bit on that, kid.” Michael laughed as Franklin muttered “not a kid” under his breath. He wagged a roasted piece of broccoli at Franklin. “Lemme give you some marriage advice.”

Franklin scoffed. “Dog, I think I’ve heard it all before. ‘Don’t get married, don’t have kids, don’t settle down.’ I got it.”

“No, no. _New_ marriage advice.” He ate his broccoli. “If you and your wife wanna be, I dunno, _sexually adventurous_ \--”

Franklin grimaced as if his food turned to sewage. “Aw, c’mon! I’m eating--”

“I’m serious!” Michael leaned in. “I’m saying if you want to do that, get it out of the way _now_. Don’t wait ‘til you’re nearing fifty. If only for flexibility reasons.”

“Man...I don’t want to know what you and your wife are up to, but...I’ll keep that in mind?” Franklin took another sip of his beer as if he was washing the bad taste out of his mouth. “So things must be good if you’re trying new shit?”

Michael shrugged. “Always a work in progress.” The waiter stopped by and put the bill on the table. Michael slid it toward him and fished out his card. “Enough about me. You seeing anyone right now?”

“I mean--not really, but I’m kinda talking to this girl.”

“That’s great, Frank! How’d you meet her?”

“Well, Chop’s been shittin’ all over my back patio and chewing up my furniture, so I finally hired someone to help train him. He doesn’t listen to me.”

“Shit, we had a goldie when we first moved here, so I know what that’s like.”

“Anyway, the person I hired is this girl named Tina. She’s really good with Chop, and she’s stayed over for dinner a couple of times…” He trailed off, a smile forming on his face. Michael recognized that look. The beginnings of something. “Nothing’s really happened yet, but I like her.”

“I’m sure she feels the same about you, man. And hey, no problem in taking things slow. Better than knocking her up within a few months of dating her, _not_ that I’m speaking from experience.” He put the bill and his card back in the center of the table. 

“Aw, we could’ve split it.”

“Don’t worry about it. You think I care?”

Franklin held up his hands. “Okay, sure.”

Michael decided to take another bite of his cold steak. “What about that one girl you dated? What was her name?”

“Who, Tanisha?” Franklin almost laughed. 

“You were really hung up on her when I first met you.”

“Shit, Tanisha is married and has a kid now. She’s _ancient_ history.”

“The one that got away?”

“Sure,” Franklin looked out the window. “Something like that.”

“Well, I’m happy for you.” He took a sip of his water. “Make sure you and your new girlfriend send me a wedding invite.”

Franklin rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I sure will.”

They said their goodbyes outside the restaurant, Michael waving as Franklin drove away on his motorcycle. He drove back home, jamming to some truly choice classic rock. Who knew Mr. Mister would be just the thing he wanted to listen to on his way home? 

As soon as he walked in, he heard Amanda call his name. She was in the living room. Clad in her pajamas and slippers, she patted the seat next to her. “Come and join me.”

Michael sighed and pulled his loafers off. “What’s on?”

“I don’t really know.” Amanda flipped through the stations. “I guess I was just excited to have the remote for a change.” 

“The joys of an empty nest, huh?” Michael sat back on the couch. 

Amanda rested her head on his shoulder. “It’s almost strange to not hear Jimmy shouting slurs into a headset, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, or to not hear the bass of Tracey’s music as she ‘studies.’” He shook his head.

The kids both moved out less than a year ago. They still try to visit on the weekends, and Tracey comes home for the holidays. College seemed to be working for her, but she could also be an impressive liar. Jimmy, on the other hand, was working part time at Burgershot and spending the rest of his time...what was it he said again? Michael couldn’t remember exactly, but it involved playing video games online. Either way, he was living with some friends in a dump disguised as a bachelor pad. At least he was out of the house, although Michael had to chip in every once in a while. 

Amanda looked around the living room. “Do you like this set up?”

“What, an empty house? Of course I do!”

“No, I mean the _design_ of our house. Is it outdated?”

Michael laughed sardonically. “No. And even if it was, I don’t think we should remodel right now.”

Amanda pouted a little. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”

“We could get a new rug, or paint the living room a different color, or somethin’.”

Amanda made a thoughtful noise. “Or we could _hire_ someone to help redecorate.”

“Ah, where’s the fun in that?”

“Just an idea.” She craned her neck over to the other end of the couch. “Could you hand me my phone?”

Michael reached over and grabbed the phone, passing it over to her. “What, you got some design ideas?”

“No, but I have been doing some other shopping.”

Michael felt a pit in his stomach. How quickly he forgot. 

Amanda swiped to open her phone and right there to greet her was the strap on. “Here, take a look.”

“Jesus, Mand, why do you have the brightness up so high? Feels like I’m fucking _blind_.” Michael immediately went to her settings to rectify that.

“I couldn’t see the details!”

“Yeah, ‘details.’ No wonder you toss and turn at night.”

“Are you going to actually look at what I want to show you, or are you just going to bitch at me?”

“I’m looking, I’m looking.” Michael pulled up the page again. The picture was a of a sleek looking dildo, not too large, paired next to a black harness. “The ‘bend over beginner?’” He laughed. 

Amanda was busying herself by flipping through the channels. She figured Michael would get too nervous with her watching him.  
  
He continued to read, trying to visualize how long four inches was with his other hand. “Oh, that ain’t too bad.”

“Were you expecting I’d buy something as big as your arm?”

He passed the phone back to her. “What? No!” He balked. Then, after a beat, “I mean, maybe, yeah.”

“ _Michael_ ,” She said softly, almost in an endearing tone. “I told you I wouldn’t be mean to you.”

“Listen, I know we got therapy tomorrow, so I ain’t gonna say all this shit tonight and have to repeat it tomorrow, but--”

“What?” She furrowed her brow.

“But--ah, never mind.”

“Just tell me.” She said, a little annoyed.

“I just don’t get why you wanna do this pegging stuff. Am I being punished?”

Amanda blew a raspberry. “No! God, not everything is about me getting back at you.” She shut off the TV.

“I just thought I should ask.”

“And I just wish you had more _faith_ in me.” She got up and walked off to the kitchen.

Michael rubbed his eyes until it hurt. “Fuck.”  
  


\--

  
The couple found themselves in Dr. Simmons’ office once again. 

Her office was smaller, much more understated than Dr. Friedlander’s office. There was a wall of psychology books behind her. Sometimes Michael read the spines of the books to drown out Amanda’s berating tone, at least in the beginning. Back when things were much more...volatile.

After they said their pleasantries and sat down on the couch, their therapist asked them how things were going.

“Good! Well, okay.” Amanda said. She paused. “I brought up the concept of pegging to Michael, and he’s still...unsure about it.”

They didn’t talk much about their sex life in therapy. Again, perhaps in the beginning, when there was still the question of infidelity in the air. A year on, it wasn’t in the front of either of their minds. The last time they said something concerning their sex life was about six months ago when Michael was too drunk to get it up, which extended into a painful conversation about his drinking. He’d kept a closer eye on his intake since then. 

Dr. Simmons took down some notes in her little notebook. Michael wondered if she actually did anything with those notes or if they were even notes at all. Hell, she could be writing her grocery list for all they knew.

“Now Michael,” Dr. Simmons said softly, “Why are you unsure about doing this?”

“What man wouldn’t be unsure of their wife wanting to fuck them up the ass?” He grumbled. 

“Do you think that, since you will be the one being penetrated, that you’ll then be less of a man? Or do you fear pegging will make you question your sexuality in ways you hadn’t thought of before?”

“What?” He scrunched up his face. “No, I mean...I ain’t exactly thought of it like that. I’m just worried it’s gonna hurt, like she _wants_ to go in dry. To completely fuck up my shit, no pun intended.”

Amanda gasped softly. “You think I would do that?”

Michael turned towards her. “I fucking do, Mandy, since I’ve given you plenty of reasons to do that.”

“How many times do I have to tell you it’s _not_ like that?”  
  
“Did I fuck up somewhere? Why now? Why all of this new stuff? Why do you even want to do it?”

She scoffed. “It should be obvious.”  
  
“Oh, it _should be_? Enlighten me, then.”

“Because it--” She looked toward Dr. Simmons, who was nodding and encouraging her to go on. “It turns me on, okay? Isn’t that the reason we want to try new things?”

Now Michael felt like an idiot. As usual. “That...okay, that makes sense.”

Amanda put a hand on Michael’s knee. “I know you fucked up in the past, like so much...honestly, it’s amazing I’m still here--”

“Mandy--”

“But I don’t want to hurt you. I want it to feel good for you. I _promise_ it’ll feel good for you! We’ve done anal before, and I like that! And I know you do too!”

Michael laughed. “Who doesn’t?”

“So I want you to _relax_ for once in your miserable life and know I want this to be good for _both_ of us, not as some revenge fantasy.”

“If I may cut in,” Dr. Simmons said, “I think trying a new method in your sex life could only be positive. Michael, despite your reservations, it doesn’t sound like you’re entirely unwilling?”

“I uh, I helped her pick out what we’re going to use for it...well, last night.”

“This could open up a lot of new options for the two of you.” She smiled at them, opening her book back up. “Maybe you’ll find a deeper understanding in each other.”

“Think it’ll be deeper for me than for--”

Amanda laughed, shaking her head. 

The remainder of the session was relatively normal, and before they knew it, the timer went off. The two of them were almost upset it was over already. 

“I hope things go well for you two on your intimate journey.” Dr. Simmons said to them as she got up to get the door for them. “When are you planning on trying?”

“Oh! Um--” Amanda looked at Michael who shrugged. “Sometime this weekend, maybe.”

“Good luck to you both, then. See you next week?”

“Of course!” 

They got into Amanda’s convertible. Michael started looking through the glove box. 

“What are you looking for?”

“You got any smokes in here?”

“Why would--no, I don’t. Why do you need to smoke?” She put her keys in the ignition and turned over the engine.

“I’m feeling really fucking anxious, okay?” He continued to dig. “Ah, there it is.” He found a crumpled up pack of Redwoods under all the assorted junk in the glove box. “Old, but still good.”

“Why the fuck are you anxious?” 

Michael desperately clicked his lighter. _Click click click._ “This _weekend,_ Mandy?” He asked, “It’s Thursday.”

“So?” 

“That’s kinda short notice, okay?” _Click click_. He finally got to light his cigarette and he took a long drag. He exhaled slowly.

Amanda coughed, reaching over and pulling the cigarette out of his hand. 

“Mandy, c’mon.”

She flicked the cigarette to the pavement. “You don’t need it. Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

Michael took a steadying breath so he wouldn’t lose his shit right after therapy. “I was expecting we’d try pegging _weeks_ from now. Not _days_. You know how I get when my schedule changes up.”

“Michael, it’ll be _fine_. If you really want to wait, we can, but I know that the strap on will be delivered tomorrow.”

“It will be? That quick?”

“You’re acting like this is the Dark Ages where it took months to have things sent out.” She laughed. 

“Yeah, the bliss of modern technology, huh?”

“Michael, you got annoyed when it took a day to have your Epsilon uniform delivered.”

Michael laughed at the thought of that scam. Thank god he made off with their money. “That’s because it cost twenty five _grand_.”

“Fair, but you need to cool it. It’s just pegging, not a colonoscopy.”

“Well ain’t _that_ a pull quote for your magazine.”

“Yeah, remind me to write a letter to the editor for that.” Amanda turned on the radio to Non Stop Pop FM. “Let’s just listen to music for a bit, okay?”

“Fine by me.”  
  


\--

Later that evening, Michael sat outside the Vanilla Unicorn, tapping at his steering wheel. He absently drummed along to some classic rock.

For once he wasn’t here for business _or_ pleasure. Rather, he was picking Trevor up. If he only _just hurried up, Jesus Christ Trevor, how hard is it to leave work?_

Trevor popped up on the passenger side window, hitting the glass. Michael yelped, and he’s probably _never_ yelped before. He clutched his chest. “Fuckin’ A, Trevor! Don’t do that!”

Trevor, laughing like a hyena as he got in the car, patted his arm. “Why, do I gotta rush you to the hospital? Is this arm numb?”

“Fuck you, I ain’t gonna have a heart attack, you dick.”

“Well, now I got you in a fine form! How’s it going?” Trevor fussed around with the radio, eventually settling on Rebel Radio. Michael hadn’t listened to country music since the two of them were stranded out in the wasteland that was Sandy Shores.

“Fine until some _maniac_ scared the shit out of me.” He backed out of the parking lot.

“All right, M. I got it. In your _feeble_ age I shouldn’t do things like that.”

“Ha ha.” He laughed sarcastically. “You wanna go out for a beer or somethin’? I know a bar on the other side of town that I’ve been meaning to--”

“Nuh-uh. I’m tired of this goddamn city.” Trevor tilted his seat back a little. “I don’t want to go to one of your _haunts._ ” 

“But you still want to go drinking?”

“Are you still a turd?”

Michael sighed. “Okay, where do you want to go?”

They end up getting a twelve pack (“Only a twelve pack for us to split? What are you, a fucking lightweight?”) of cheap beer at the local convenience store. Trevor _insisted_ on drinking it in a part of Los Santos that was _least_ like Los Santos.

So he went to the scrapyard. “I don’t see any difference. Even the _scrap_ _metal_ seems fake.”

“T,” Michael said, killing the ignition. “If you hate LS so much, why do you fucking run the Vanilla Unicorn?”

“Cause I’m a _businessman_ , Michael. It’s not enough for me to be in charge of TPI! I know the concept of work is an abstract idea, but for some of us _hardworking Americans_ \--”

“Okay, _fucking hell_ , forget I asked.” He got out to get the twelve pack from the backseat. “Where do you want to drink these?”

Trevor peered over the top of Michael’s sedan, looking out at the mountains of scrap metal as if it was a beautiful vista. “Overrrrrr…….” He squinted a little before pointing at a rusty car sticking out of the pile of rubble. “There! You carry the beer!”

Michael sighed, trailing behind Trevor as he went halfway up the pile of junk before plopping himself down on the trunk of the car. “I hope you’re up to date on your tetanus shot!”

Trevor waved away the suggestion. “Ahh, shots. Who needs ‘em?” He watched Michael stumble as he walked uneasily up to the trunk. “You got it?”

“Yeah, I fuckin’--fuckin’ got it.” He extended the box of beer to Trevor. “Shit, I’m just glad I didn’t rip myself to shreds.” He sat next to Trevor on the trunk.

“I’ll tell you right now, Mikey--” Trevor cracked open a can, “This ain’t gonna be enough to get us fucked up.”

“I know, but I’m trying to cut back.” Michael also cracked open a beer. “I can’t go a thousand miles per hour like you do.”

“Or like you used to,” Trevor muttered as he sipped. “Still shitty beer, but it kinda makes me feel nostalgic. In a kind of ‘piss yourself and fall asleep in a puddle of your own vomit’ kind of way.”

“Yeah, I was going to say the same exact thing.” Michael said dryly. 

Trevor already finished his first beer, crushing it and tossing it down the hill. It clanged against an old oil barrel. “Ten points!”

“What, this is a game now?”

“Sure, why not?” Trevor grabbed another can. 

“Okay,” Michael chugged the rest of his beer, it going down smoother than he remembered when he was a kid, then crumpled up the can and tossed it at the same barrel. It clanged against it. “Ha! Ten points!” 

“Yeah, yeah, lucky shot. I was just taking it easy on you.” He gulped down his beer. “Try an’ aim for the muffler down there.”

It was much further down the scrap mountain. 

“ _Okay_ ,” Michael said warily as he sipped. 

“Well, it shouldn’t be too hard for you, Mr. Star Quarterback.”

Michael gave him the finger as he polished off his beer. He crumpled it up, then flattened it the other way.

Trevor tossed his first. It just barely dinged the muffler. “Fifty points!”

Michael wound his arm around. “Okay, here goes!” He tossed it and…

It completely missed. “Fuck!”

Trevor condescendingly patted him on the shoulder. “Hey man, we can’t win ‘em all! Don’t be a sore fucking loser about it.”

Michael shrugged off his hand, getting another can. 

A hundred points later (Michael and Trevor both got lucky on hitting the muffler), Michael was feeling loose enough to ask.

“Hey T,” he looked over at Trevor, who was scavenging through the pile of metal. He didn’t bother asking what he was looking for. “Remember that one girl you took home? You said she had that _thing_ she was interested in?”

Trevor stopped sifting and looked up at Michael. “Uh, you’re gonna need to be more specific, amigo.”

“Y’know, she--” Michael took a drink, holding up his finger. “She was into--what was it called?” He made a face to look like he was deep in thought, even though the term was in the front of his mind. “What was it, punting?”

“Uh, _again,_ you’re going to need to be more specific.”

“But _was_ it called punting? Is that it?”

“You mean where you get fucked in the ass with a strap on? _Ssssure is._ ” Trevor wiped his hands on his dirty jeans, then walked over to get another beer. “Why?”

“No I was just--just wondering.”

Trevor opened the can pointedly. “Uh-huh.”

“...Did it hurt?”

Trevor laughed as he took a drink. “Which time?” He wiped his mouth with the hem of his shirt.

“So it wasn’t just with that one girl?”

Trevor gave him a look. “Why the fuck are you asking all these questions.” He sounded sinister in his tone. Michael’s eyes met with his.

“Can’t a friend ask another friend questions?” He asked a little defensively.

“I hate when you get like this, Mikey. Get all--all—“ He held up his hands and shook them towards Michael. “— _cagey_ and weird. How ‘bout you just tell me why you’re asking and we can move the fuck on, okay?”

“Never mind, I was just wonderin’ what that girl did that was so special.” Michael sipped at his beer. He figured with the way he phrased it wouldn’t lead to the statement _“Amanda wants to peg me and I’m scared.”_

“Wait, wait... _waaaaaait_.” Trevor snapped his fingers to try and get his brain to catch up. “We talkin’ bout the ‘hands free’ girl?”

“That’s--that was her!” Michael said, acting like he realized it at the same time. 

“She was real special. Came all over her bedspread, yelled so loud I woke up her fucking roommate, got kicked out...” Trevor sighed fondly. “Sorry I don’t have her number or whatever if that’s what you’re asking.”

Michael scoffed. “ _No,_ I wasn’t wondering.”

“I tell ya Mikey,” Trevor tossed his beercan. It clanked against an old mini fridge. “I think if every man got fucked up the ass _at least_ once in their lives, they’d get some real perspective.”

Michael laughed. “Oh _really_? Is that so?”

“Yeah it fucking _is_ so! They would learn what it’s like to just--to know what it’s like, to get fucked. It’s so _different_ from fucking.” Trevor stole another beer. “Not like you’d _understand_ that.”

Michael’s stomach dropped. 

They never talked about their on-again, off-again series of hookups. It often happened when the money was too hot to go out and spend it and there wasn’t anything else to do but lay low. It was fun, but thinking of it now after more than a decade of _not_ thinking about it...it made him feel uneasy. Like he had more to apologize for. “Did uh...did _that_ ever hurt?”

After cracking open a can and sucking off the foam at the top, Trevor looked over at him. “Did _what_ ever hurt?”

“You know, when...when it was you an’ me--”

Trevor thought about it as he swished beer in his mouth. He swallowed and said, “Nnnnnn--well that _one_ time, the first time, yeah. You tried to jam your dick in me with only your nasty spit.”

“Oh _right_ ,” Michael laughed. “My mouth was so fucking dry from the blow too--”

Trevor shivered as he drank. “Fucking _bleak_ times call for strange bedfellows and all that shit.”

Michael creased his brow. “Shit T, I’m sorry ‘bout that.” 

“It’s _fine_. I forgive you. But I fucking know if it were the reverse I never hear the fucking end of it.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “But it _wasn’t_ the reverse.”

Trevor jabbed him with his pointer finger. “‘Cause you were too fucking caught up in your fucking _masculinity_ to even think about getting on all fours for me!” 

“I know! I know!” Michael held up his hands. “I was young and dumb, T.”

“And now you’re _old_ and dumb. Big fucking change.” He bitterly sipped his beer.

"Jesus, T, I’m _sorry_ , okay?”

“Shit, I never get tired of hearing you say that.” Trevor took a steadying breath. “But you really need some fucking _perspective_ , you know that?”

“Well, I think _very_ soon I’ll be getting that supposedly needed perspective.” Michael grabbed the remaining box of beer and started to walk down the scrap mountain, leaving Trevor with a confused look on his face. 

“What the fuck does that mean, M? Who’s going to fuck you up the ass, huh? Cause it ain’t gonna be me!” Trevor called out, chasing him down.  
  
Michael gave him a smug look. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, let me drop you off.”

“I’m serious, M, it ain’t gonna be me!”

“Heard you the first time, T.”

Trevor berated him with questions on the way back to the strip club, finally _realizing_ Amanda was the one that would be doing the honors.  
  
“ _OH,_ Oh _Mikey_...make sure you have lube, you’re going to need it.” Trevor laughed hysterically, taking the box of remaining beer with him, holding it in one arm like an infant. “Good luuuuuck!” He said in a sing-song voice.

Michael, again, was less than amused, but at least he didn’t spill the beans too early in their hangout time together. Although he had a feeling he would need to turn his phone off tonight, unless he wanted to get a bevy of 3am calls from Trevor. 

He opened the front door, greeted by the most blissful silence. “Never gets old,” he said to himself as he kicked off his shoes and dropped his keys on the table. “Amanda?”

The house was pretty dark. It wasn’t _that_ late, only slightly past eleven. Maybe she’s already in bed?

He tiptoed up the stairs to find a sliver of light from under the bedroom door. 

“Honey, I’m--” Michael stopped. His wife was in bed, reading a book, but he stopped in his tracks at the discrete box sitting at the end of the bed. “Fuckin’ A, is that it?”

“It sure is.” Amanda looked up from her book slyly. “The mail was faster than we thought I guess.”

Michael grabbed the box and set it on the vanity. It was lighter than he was expecting. “How about that, huh.”

“Come to bed.” Amanda absently patted his side of the bed as she continued to read her book. 

Michael smelled his suit. “Ugh, I gotta shower.” He unbuttoned his suit jacket. “I fucking smell like a junkyard.”

“...I don’t want to know.” She turned the page. “Don’t take too long, I’m going to get the light soon.”

“Sure thing, _my sweet_.” 

His shower was quick, he himself feeling sleepy as well. Just as Amanda was about to reach for the light, he was coming out of the bathroom in his pajamas. 

“Are you cold?” Amanda looked over at him, her hand still on the lamp.

“Well, Trevor insisted on sitting on a scrap pile and drinking, so I’m still feeling a little chilled.”

“God, maybe one day he’ll hurt himself from trying to be so _original_.” Amanda mused sourly. She clicked off the light.

“Here’s hoping, right?” Michael laughed. He slipped into bed, wrapping his arm around Amanda’s waist. He hummed comfortably. “Someone’s toasty.” 

Amanda scooted back toward Michael, trying to get even toastier. “It’s cold out! I mean, 54 fucking degrees? Where are we, Alaska?”

Michael laughed. “Look at us, whining about Los Santos weather.”

“I found myself complaining about kale earlier today, too.”

“Total parodies of ourselves.” Michael kissed Amanda on the neck. “Who would have thought.”

“Are you starting something?” She asked neutrally.

“What? No. I wasn’t gonna--”

“Because you’re being so _snuggly_ and _amiable_.” Amanda squeezed his hand. 

“If you want me to _perform_ tomorrow, I probably shouldn’t.” 

“...Do you want to do _that_ tomorrow?”

“Only if you want to.” _Getting perspective…_

“Fine with me, but I have to send you an article for what to do to _prepare_ for tomorrow.”

“Oh, _great._ I can’t wait for that part of the process.”

“It shouldn’t be that bad.” Amanda responded sleepily.

“Easy for you to say.” Michael held her tighter, drifting off to sleep. 

\--  
  


Michael took a switchblade to the package. “Let’s see what we’re working with.” 

“Careful not to cut the whole package to shreds!” Amanda sat at her vanity, looking at Michael through the mirror as she did her makeup. 

“You don’t want to sit here and help?”

Amanda made a face in the mirror. “Help with _what_? It’s opening a package, not defusing a bomb. Besides, I can see it from here.”

“Okay, _fine_ .” He tore open the sizes of the box, dumping out the contents on the bed. “ _Oh._ ”

“‘Oh,’ what?” Amanda turned around, only one of her eyebrows filled in. 

“There’s uh--there’s _two_ dildos in here.” He held up both to show them to Amanda. One was a little larger than the other, but they were both relatively small. _Manageable_. 

“Yeah, I know.” Amanda turned back around in her chair. “The other is for when you’re warmed up.”

Michael laughed awkwardly. “Okay, who’s to say we’ll ever use that one.”

“Mm, you’d be surprised.” 

“What’s that mean, Mandy?”

Amanda and Michael made a deal that they wouldn’t talk about their past infidelities. The only condition was that they could bring it up if they were in Dr. Simmons’ office. Seeing as they weren’t now, Michael should have tabled it for later. 

_Should_ have.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t sound like nothing.” Michael put the dildos on the bed. “You sure you haven’t done this before?”

“Jesus, I _haven’t_! I just meant that--” Amanda sighed. “Never mind, we’re not in therapy.”

“You can talk about Fabien, since that’s who I’m assuming you’re talking about.” 

“ _Fine_ , _yes,_ it was with Fabien. All I was going to say was that you’d be surprised what the body can accommodate.”

“...I shouldn’t have fucking asked.” Michael muttered. 

“You wanted to know!” Amanda filled in her other brow. “What else is in there?”

Pushing the imagery of Fabien helping Amanda _accommodate he didn’t know what_ deep down, Michael held up some straps. “We got the harness, I’m guessing?”

“Sure is.” Amanda, finally done with her makeup, went over and sat on the bed. “There should be a bullet vibe in there, let me see.” She snatched the harness from Michael. “Oh _good_. It’s there.”

“I was wondering what you’d get out of all of this. How you’d get off, I mean.”

“You really haven’t done any _research_?”

Michael shook his head.

“It’s worth checking out.”

“If you send me some videos, I’ll make sure to check them out as soon as possible.” He said, voice dripping in sarcasm. 

Amanda rolled her eyes, picking up the smaller dildo in her hand and looking at it. “We could always watch something together.” 

He didn’t seem too keen on the idea. They tried to do that before but it always devolved in them criticizing the other’s taste in porn. “Ehh--”

The front door slammed shut. “Hello? _Mom_ ? _Dad_?” Tracey called out.

Michael and Amanda both shared a look. “What’s she doing home?”

“I don’t know!”

“You go first.” Michael shooed Amanda out of the room as he gathered up the strap on and strap on apparatuses and put it back in the box. He slid it under the bed. 

“Tracey!” Amanda greeted. “What are you doing home?”

“Uh, you _wanted_ to go out for a mani-pedi since I’m done with the semester?”

Amanda and Tracey hugged. “I’m sorry honey, I must have forgotten.”

Michael came down the steps next. “Sugarplum! How are things?”

“ _Dad_ ! You can’t keep calling me that! I’m 24! I’m a _grown up!_ ” 

“Hardly!” 

“ _Michael_ ,” Amanda chastised.

“What? She’s still my little girl!”

“Stop!” Tracey whined. “You can’t keep _infantilizing_ me like that!” 

“Someone’s been paying attention in their psychology classes, I see!”

Tracey rolled her eyes. “Yes, _daddy_. I’m doing more than just getting wasted and snorting adderall.” She breezed past her parents and went up the stairs. “I hope you didn’t change my room or anything!”

“We haven’t even _been_ in there!” Amanda said.

“Good!” Tracey closed her door.

Michael shared a look with Amanda. “She better have been joking about the adderall thing.”

“She probably wasn’t,” she sighed.

“She staying the full weekend? I mean, it’s fine if she does--”

Amanda shrugged. “She can probably only last an evening with us now that she’s out of the house.”

“Shit, I don’t blame her.”

She folded her arms. “We’re going out for a mani-pedi.”

“I could put something on the grill, maybe invite Jim over? Be a real fuckin’ family for once?”

Amanda smiled softly at him. “I think that would be nice.” She kissed him on the cheek. “And I’ll get my nails filed down so I can--” She made a thrusting motion with her two fingers. 

It took Michael a second to register what she meant. “ _Oh-- Jesus, Mandy_!”

“I’m just saying!”

Shaking his head, he stalked into the kitchen, sending Jimmy a text.

\--

Tracey and Jimmy watched their parents chatting and grilling outside. Sitting on the kitchen counter, Tracey looked back at Jimmy. “I’m just saying it’s weird, Trace.”

“ _No_ , what’s weird is that mom and I went to get our nails done today--” Tracey flashed the new manicure job toward Jimmy almost as a way to prove it, “--and mom didn’t mention dad _once_.”

Jimmy screwed up his face. “What the fuck, not even like, an aside comment?”

“ _No_. We just talked about typical shit.” She looked back out the window. “What’s wrong with them?”

“Uh, besides the fact that they’re both drunken greedy narcissists?”

“ _Besides_ that. Like, why are they getting along so well?”

Amanda kissed Michael on the cheek as he flipped the burgers.

“Do you think they were replaced by some kind of weird clones? Or, or, abducted by aliens?”

Tracey looked at her brother incredulously. “I think you’ve been playing too many video games.”

“Not enough to distract me from whatever the fuck is going on here!”

Tracey caught eyes with her mom. “Shit, shit! She saw me.”

“Be cool, just _be cool_.” Jimmy rushed over to the fridge and opened it. Tracey got off the counter and clinked some glasses around.

“Kids,” Amanda said, sticking her head through the french doors. “You mind setting the table? Dinner is almost ready.”

“Uh--” Jimmy shut the fridge door. “Sure, yeah.”

“I got the glasses!” Tracey said, gathering four into her arms.  
  
Amanda went back outside. 

They set the table, perhaps for the first time ever. Neither of them knew which side was for the forks and which was for the knives. They never had to worry about it before. 

Michael came in with a plate full of burgers, half cheese, half plain. “Sorry we didn’t do anything more fancy, kids.”

Tracey and Jimmy looked at each other. “As if that’s been a problem before?” Jimmy finally asked. 

Amanda was close behind Michael, going to the fridge to search for condiments and burger toppings. Their kids warily dressed their meal. 

“You want a salad, babe?” Amanda asked, holding up a slightly wilted bag of spinach. 

“Well I wasn’t gonna--”

“Some roughage might help.” She said pointedly, shaking the bag. 

Michael shrugged. “Ah, fuck it, sure.”

Jimmy discretely sent a text to Tracey. _Definitely alienz_

 _I think for once ur right???_ She replied back. 

They ate at the round dinner table in silence.

“The burgers are good, dad.” Jimmy held up his burger almost to toast him. 

“Thanks, Jim. You know, I got that grill _five years ago_ , and I haven’t fucking used it until now?”

“Yeah, it’s uh--it’s something.” Jimmy took another bite. 

“Tracey, you haven’t told me about your classes.” Michael dug into his salad.

“Wait, you _want_ to hear about my classes?”

“I’m paying for them, so...yeah.” 

After shooting a weird look to Jimmy, she said, “Well this semester was all boring pre-req classes. English, Intro to Psych, Humanities.”

“All of which you so _desperately_ need--” Jimmy chimed in.

“ _Jimmy_.” Amanda warned.

“And...I dunno. It was kinda slow at first, but it was okay.” 

Michael smiled at his daughter. “Well I’m proud of you, Tracey. You decide on a major yet?”

“Maybe... _psych_?”

Jimmy laughed. “Oh my god, could you be any more of a cliche?” 

“Shut _up_ , at least I’m in school!” Tracey sneered. 

Jimmy was already thinking of a clever retort when Michael glared at him. “Jimmy, leave her alone.”

Jimmy made a mocking voice and focused back on his dinner.

“Psychology, that’s something.” Amanda took a sip of wine. “Are you thinking about being a therapist?”

“Uhhh, I’ve seen enough therapists to know I don’t want to do that. I think I could be, like, a social worker or something.”

“That’s a great idea.” Amanda smiled and nodded. “And Jimmy, you’re doing your video game flows--”

“It’s called _streaming_ , mom. I play games and people watch me play them. I’m trying to get a partnership and get ad revenue or some shit.”

Jimmy might as well have been speaking a different language, but Michael nodded anyway. “Yeah, that’s--that sounds like you.” 

There was a lull at the table. Michael took another bite of his burger, ketchup getting on his cheek.

Amanda leaned over and wiped the ketchup off of him with her napkin. Michael muttered a “thank you” to her.

“Do you guys _have_ to do that in front of us?” Jimmy asked in a disgusted tone. 

“Yeah, like no offense, but it’s just really weird.”

“What’s weird?” Michael asked.

“Uh, _all of this_? You and mom getting along like you’re a happy couple--”

“Not to mention us even sitting down for a dinner that isn’t fucking take out!”

“What, so you’d prefer how it was before? Your mom and I screamin’ and shoutin’ at each other?”

“No, but it’s just…” Tracey trailed off. 

“Is this just for show, or what?” Jimmy sighed.

“No, this is real.” Amanda said. “Well, it’s real for me.”

“Real for me as well.” Michael chimed in somewhat defensively. 

“It’s not like, _bad_ , or anything, but it’s _abnormal_. Like seeing a dog walk on two legs.” Tracey looked at her parents, perplexed.

“Or seeing Uncle T in a tuxedo!”

“Or, or having it snow in LS!”

“Or when you’re playing a game and--”

“ _Okay!_ We get it!” Michael finally snapped. “We’re _trying_ , okay? We’re in couple’s therapy, you know that.”

Jimmy gestured with his hands. “Yeah, for like a _year_ , and you two haven’t been all lovey dovey much before tonight. Not even when we had our old names.”

“We just--” Amanda looked over at Michael and placed a hand on his thigh. “Had a breakthrough recently.”

Michael wasn’t certain about that phrasing. “Sure, yeah. A _breakthrough_.”

Tracey grimaced. “I don’t want to know what that means.” 

Amanda rolled her eyes. “Kids, we’ve been through a lot. Well, your father has put us through a lot. But we made it _through_. Now the two of us are trying to figure out where to go from here and hope for the best.”

Tracey and Jimmy looked at their parents and then at each other. “Okay…” Tracey said. 

“And hopefully this is like a second wind. Or the real deal.” Michael placed his hand over Amanda’s.

“...Are you two swinging? Is that the breakthrough?” Jimmy asked. 

“What?! No!” Amanda laughed.

Tracey thought for a moment. “Now that Jimmy mentioned it, you two kind of have that ‘looking for a third at the country club’ vibe.”

“What? What the _fuck_ kind of vibe even _is_ that?”

“It’s probably the polo shirt.” Jimmy offered, glancing under the table. “And the topsiders.”

Michael scoffed. “We ain’t swinging or doing any other shit like that.”

“You’re serious?” Tracey asked. “Like you’re not lying to us, and it won’t be like the second we leave you’ll start fighting again?”

“We promise.” Amanda got up, taking her empty plate to the kitchen.

\--

Tracey and Jimmy didn’t stay much longer after dinner was finished. They said their goodbyes and went their separate ways. “We freaked them out, didn’t we?”

Amanda rinsed off the plates in the sink. She polished off her glass of Merlot. “We weren’t even trying to.”

“Well--” Michael shrugged, leaning against the island. “--Either way, we got an empty house again.

As she put the plates into the dishwasher, she looked over at Michael. “You’re up for it tonight?”

“Nah, gotta wait for the salad to work its magic.”

“You know you can’t eat like shit and eat _one_ salad expecting that it will change anything.”

Michael stood up from the counter, stretching a little. “Yeah, I know.” He stepped over to Amanda, hugging her from behind. He kissed her neck.

“Michael,” she laughed gently.

“I can smell the Merlot on you.”

“Not sure if that’s an insult or a come on.”

Michael nuzzled her. “I think you know which one it is.”

Amanda turned and kissed him back. It was a quick kiss. “I’m going to finish this and put my feet up.”

Trying to hide his dejection, he said, “Nah, I got it. You go and rest.”

“Wow, now _I’m_ getting a little freaked out by your generosity.”

“Just trying to ride this niceness wave for as long as it takes me, dear.” He switched places with Amanda. “I’m sure I’ll be beating someone’s face in at the country club soon enough.”

“O-kay, not what I wanted to hear, but just make sure it’s no one important?”

“I’ll try.” Michael went back to putting plates in the dishwasher as Amanda left the room.   
  


\--

Amanda knocked on the bathroom door. “You okay in there?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, although I feel like I’m my own proctologist…” Michael said back. He’d finally read the articles to prepare for pegging. Amanda so _graciously_ sent them to him while he was doing the dishes last night. It wasn’t exactly difficult or painful, but it was certainly embarrassing. He did the necessary precautions for clearing things out among other things he would have never guessed he’d do, _especially_ at this age. “You have to do this any time you do anal?”

Amanda laughed. “It’s the least amount of preparation I’d do for that.”

“I’d hate to know any more than that.” Michael washed his hands thoroughly. Things were good, surprisingly clean. Surely the salad really did what it could in clearing him out? He dried off his hands on his bath towel and opened the door to the walk in closet. He looked at his closet. “You want me to wear anything else?”

“Michael, I don’t care. It’s not like you’ll wear them for long.” Amanda called from the bedroom. The door was closed, something that was a rarity. Michael readjusted himself in his boxer briefs before stepping out to the bedroom. He looked at the bed, frozen midstep. 

Amanda was propped on the bed wearing some sheer stockings, even a _garter belt_ , with a very complicated bra and underwear set. The kind that had an unnecessary number of straps but looked sexy anyway. “Michael,” Amanda put a lock of hair behind her ear. “It’s not polite to stare.”

“How can I not stare?” Michael mused, closing the closet door behind him. “You look gorgeous, Mandy.”

“I know.” She responded, sitting up on the bed, showing off her assets. 

Michael reached out and put his hand around her waist. “Is this new lingerie, or new for me?” Then, after a beat, he said, “Don’t answer that, actually.” He kissed her neck.

“I wasn’t going to answer anyway.” Amanda nudged Michael into kissing her on the lips. It was soft, but deep. “Get on the bed.” Amanda said, her hands resting on his chest.

“You want to get started?” Michael asked, in that kind of voice that Amanda loved. Low, maybe even a little devious. 

“I never thought I would hear _you_ ask that.” Amanda giggled, kissing him once more.

“Just feelin’ a little antsy.” He responded truthfully, crawling onto the bed.

“Don’t worry,” Amanda swished her hair, “I’ll take _good_ care of you.” She laid down next to him, slinging a leg over one of Michael’s. Her soft hands slipped down past his waistband.

“We’re really going through with foreplay? Shit, I guess you are really into this--”

“Shut up.” She said in a sweet tone, stroking him softly. 

“It’s just so rare that I had to say something--”

“ _Michael. Shut the fuck up_.”

“Okay, I’ll stop.” Michael put a hand behind his head, sinking into the bed further. He gently rubbed at her thigh.

Michael couldn’t remember the last time they drew out their foreplay. Even after reconciling, they kept it to a minimum. Not that either of them _hated_ doing it, but they were always too focused on getting off that they didn’t bother with it. And yet, enough time had passed between the thrill of working up to sex that it was a novel concept again. 

With her hand still on him, she moved in between his legs. Michael got a good view of her ass as she changed positions. She tugged down his underwear before moving her hair out of the way before going down on him. 

Michael bit back a moan. Now _this_ part was pretty infrequent. They got tested a few months ago after some paranoia (and Amanda certainly didn’t want to catch anything _again_ , especially throat STDs) that Michael was sleeping around again. He vehemently denied it, even going so far to offer his phone to her. He wasn’t sure where the suspicion arose from, but it certainly wasn’t unwarranted given their history. Either way, the tests came back clean, but Amanda still refused to go down on him for a couple weeks after the results. Whether it was out of embarrassment that her worries were unfounded, or that she was really concerned Michael caught something, he didn’t bother asking.

He was just happy that after all this time she was willing to still give him a blowjob. Savoring the feeling, he gently placed his hand on her head. Amanda really knew what made him get off, especially after more than twenty years together.

Amanda glanced up at Michael, a spark in her eye. She moved a hand lower, cupping his balls. Michael groaned loudly, his back arching off the bed.

Then her other hand, somehow so slick, circled around his hole. 

Michael gasped, babbling, “Woah-hey-wait-fuck—what the fuck are you—” He pushed back toward the bed. 

“What is it?” Amanda asked, hands out in front of her like a surgeon.

“I thought there would be a little bit more foreplay--” 

“This still _is_ foreplay, do you see the strap on anywhere?”

“...No.”

“You need to _relax_. You want me to announce when I’m going to do things?”

“Some fucking warning would be nice!” Michael laughed nervously. 

“Okay, fine. Lay back down.”

After a moment, Michael warily got back into his position. He even spread his legs a little. 

“I’m going to warm you up.” Amanda put more lube on her finger. “Tell me if it hurts.”

“I’ll try not to scream.” 

Amanda rolled her eyes. “You could have done some trimming down here.”

“Must have missed that in the article you sent me.” He responded playfully. 

Amanda sighed and went back down on him. He’d flagged a little in the resulting panic, but now things were getting back on track. Even just _hearing_ the noises of Mandy sucking his dick was enough of a turn on. 

Then he felt her thin finger at his entrance. He breathed deeply, trying his hardest to only pay attention to the blowjob.

Amanda stuck her well-lubed finger inside him slowly. She curled her finger upwards.

“ _Oh_ ,” Michael gasped despite himself. It made all his hair stand up on end. “Oh _shit_.”

Amanda changed positions, folding her legs under her and wrapping her other hand around his cock. “You like that?” She curled her finger again, pressing against his prostate.

“Fuck, oh--” He laughed giddily. “ _Baby_!”

She slid her finger out a little, then pressed it back inside. Michael sucked in air through his teeth. She started a slow rhythm, always curling up her finger inside him.

Michael could barely contain his enthusiasm. It was something so _new_ , so intense. His hands flexed and relaxed on the bedspread. 

Amanda drank in this scene, seeing Michael like this. She tugged at his cock again and rubbed her finger against his prostate. “You think you can handle another finger? Should I wait?”

“Nah, go ahead-- _fuck_ \--” He folded the pillow behind him over his eyes. 

Amanda stuck another finger in. It felt even _better_. Michael moaned, his brain not having the ability to even form words.

“You’re so _tight_ \--Is this okay? Does it hurt?” She asked, tugging at Michael’s cock. He was harder than when he was getting a blowjob.

“No, it doesn’t _hurt--fuck_!” Michael whined. “Gonna come if you keep it up like this--”

“Well, I don’t want _that_ to happen.” Amanda stopped pressing her fingers against his prostate. He was pretty well worked open, slicked up with some very fancy lube. “I’m going to get the strap on ready.” She gave one final thrust of her fingers before removing them. Michael shivered at the sensation. 

“I should rinse off my hands.” 

“Here--” Michael tossed her his boxers. “Just use those. They’re generic anyway.”

Amanda gave him a disgusted look. “... _No_.” She went to the bathroom, careful to open the door with her non lubed hand. 

As he listened to running water, Michael got out the box from under the bed, placing them by his feet. Before he had time to think about how he completely melted into the sheets, Amanda was back in the room, drying herself off with a hand towel. Michael loved to watch her walk.

“You look so fucking good,” Michael said, almost feeling drunk from everything.

Amanda giggled, fitting the dildo into the O-ring of the harness. “Are you feeling okay?"  
  
“How could I not be?” Michael rested his hands behind his head.

“I’ve just never seen you just--” She gestured to his naked body. _“Hang_ _out_ like this. It’s interesting.” 

Michael shrugged as a response, his shoulders touching his ear lobes. 

Amanda put the harness on after making sure the bullet vibrator was in the front. She put a healthy amount of lube on the small dildo. “You ready for it?”

“Baby, I can now really say I am.” 

Amanda got onto the bed, leaning down to give Michael a kiss. His hands grabbed greedily at her, first around her waist, then down the small of her back to her ass. He pressed her down further.

The feeling of her dildo pressed against the underside of his cock only excited him more. 

Who _was_ he? What _happened_ to him? He never thought he would get so excited by something like this. Michael, for once, was living in the moment. He tried hard to not be bogged down by past transgressions and infidelities. This was a _new_ experience, and the last thing he wanted to do was sour it with his bullshit.

Amanda grabbed a throw pillow from behind him and smacked at his thigh to raise up his hips. He obliged, Amanda shoving the pillow under him. “For leverage,” she explained. She planted one more kiss on his lips before moving down on the bed to line up their hips perfectly. She sat back a little, lining up the dildo with his hole. “I love you, baby.” She pressed the dildo inside him, plenty slick that there was no friction, no burn.

Michael’s vision still went white, if only for a second. He couldn’t stop swearing.

“Does it hurt?” She asked softly, her hips still.

“No, fuck, it’s just so--” Michael screwed up his face. “So _fucking_ _much_.”

“I’ll go slow for you.” Amanda smiled. She stroked him again.

It looked like he was shivering. “Oh, _fuck_ \--Mandy--”

Amanda was slow and shallow with her thrusts, watching Michael intently. “Is this okay?”

“I think I need more leverage.” Michael groaned, his eyebrows knit together. 

Amanda grabbed another pillow. “Do a bridge pose.”

“A what?”

“A bridge pose. I showed you last week when we did yoga?”

Ah, yoga. One of Amanda’s great loves that she couldn’t help but still love, even without Fabien. Michael was her pupil every once in a while, mostly to go through basic poses. She kept expressing the desire to hold yoga classes at the house, but Michael was unsure about that. Los Santos had _plenty_ of yogis and yoga studios. You couldn’t throw a rock without hitting a spindly yoga instructor!Despite that, he indulged her fantasy by participating in her sessions. 

“...Mandy, I’m a little distracted right now.”

“Ugh, just lift your ass up.”

Michael inadvertently did a minor bridge pose just enough to let the pillow get under him. 

“That better?” She asked, thrusting a little to see how it felt in this position.

“Yeah, shit. Right there.” Michael breathed out, stroking his cock. He wondered if he could do it “hands free” when the time came, phrasing notwithstanding. 

Amanda thrusted a little bit faster, her hips stuttering in the movement. “This is taking some getting used to.”

“You and me both, baby.” 

“I wonder if this is how it feels for you.” She pushed herself in a little bit further, a coy look in her eye. “What it’s like when you fuck me.” Amanda wrapped a hand around his cock. “It’s nice to be in control.”

“Is that what this is about? Control?” Michael asked, biting down a groan as Amanda pushed herself further in. His eyelids fluttered shut.

“Maybe a little.” Amanda answered truthfully. She grabbed Michael by the hip. “Can I go all the way in now?”

Michael opened one eye. “Wait, you aren’t fully in?” 

She shook her head. “Nope.”

“I’m warmed up, go on then.”

It turned out that the remaining inch or so made all the difference in the world. The smooth tip of the dildo pressed fully against his prostate as she went all the way in, eventually settling her hips right against his ass. Just as he got used to that sensation, she pulled back out again. She kept a slow pace as she fucked him. It was almost too slow, not enough to get the same feelings of when she was warming him up.

“You mind going a _little_ faster?”

“Oh, you want _faster_ ?” Amanda grinned. She reached into the harness and turned her bullet vibe on. It was quiet; every once in a while they could hear the _vvvvvvvvrrr_ if they focused hard enough on it. “You’re sure?”

“I uh--” Michael cleared his throat. “Yeah?”

Amanda laughed a little. She put both hands on Michael’s hips as she picked up her pace. She rocked her hips in and out of him, the dildo pressing against his prostate each time she thrusted. The pressure became more and more frequent as Amanda kept going faster. Michael made clipped moans as she pushed inside him. 

“Too much for you?” Amanda asked, her breathing getting ragged. 

“Not quite-- _fuck_ \--” Michael tugged at his cock again. Amanda dug her nails into his fleshy hips. He hissed at the feeling. 

Amanda was working towards her own orgasm, but Michael couldn’t seem to get there yet. His lower back was starting to hurt, not to mention his knees. But he couldn’t tell her now unless he _wanted_ to piss her off. 

“Ah, _fuck_!” Amanda moaned, grinding her hips against his ass. It was just enough pressure to keep the bullet vibe against her clit. “Michael,” she whined.

“Come on, baby,” Michael groaned, half out of pain and half out of pleasure. He wrapped his legs around Amanda’s lower back, pushing her closer. She came loudly, something Michael hadn’t heard in a while. He always made sure she climaxed, sure (at least post-reconciling) but he rarely heard her moan like this anymore. If his joints weren’t seizing up, maybe he could have come with her.

Shaking, Amanda pulled out. “Fuck.” She unswitched the bullet vibe, if only for the time being, and sat back on the bed. 

Michael tossed the pillows from under his hips off the side of the bed. He rested his hand on his stomach. “Mandy, you okay?”

She took a deep breath. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” She went to put more lube on the dildo. A couple of pumps into her hand and she stroked it just enough to make sure it was slick. Michael watched this process, distractedly touching himself as he did. 

“My fuckin’ back is killing me.” Michael groaned. “You mind if we switched positions?”

“Did I blow your back out?” Amanda laughed. 

Michael scoffed as he sat up. “Yeah, sure.”

Amanda wiped off her hands on a cast-aside towel. “I was thinking we could do doggy?”

“Doggy? _Really_ ?”  
  
“Yes really! Either that or you could get on top and do some work for a change.”

Wordlessly, Michael got on all fours. He made the mistake of catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Seeing his strong but paunchy body at this angle was...less than desirable. He grimaced and looked the other way. 

Amanda didn’t notice (or if she did, she was nice enough to not say anything), and she got behind Michael. “You ready baby?”

“Yeah, go on.” Then, with a hint of playfulness, he said, “Fuck me, Mandy.”

Turning on her bullet vibe again, she lined up her hips and pushed inside him slowly. She looked over at the mirror as she did. It was exciting to see Michael in a submissive position. It was so rare that Amanda was even able to be the more dominant one in the bedroom, let alone having the opportunity to peg him. And, especially with the sounds he was making as she thrusted into him, she imagined she’d get used to this image. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Michael whined. It felt even better in this position. “Mandy--”

“I’ll take care of you,” she purred, picking up her pace a little bit. Her soft hands ran up his flanks, lightly scratching his skin. She felt goosebumps as her fingers slid down to his hips. Her hands eventually settled there, giving herself more stability to push herself into Michael. 

Hands gripping the bedspread, Michael looked back at his wife. She looked so _into_ it, her eyes shut, completely caught up in fucking him that she didn’t even notice him take a glance at her. “Mandy,” he groaned.

Amanda opened her eyes. It looked like she was in a daze. She tilted her head to the side, a lazy smile on her face. She pushed his hips down, a message to get him to lay down. He obliged, his limbs feeling like jelly anyway. Amanda rested on top of him, kissing at his neck. Michael craned his head back slightly to kiss her. He moaned against her lips, his hips grinding into the bed. She planted kisses along his cheek.

“You wanna come, baby?” Amanda asked against his ear, her voice silky smooth. 

“Fuckin’ A I do.” Michael pushed himself back onto the dildo. 

“So do I.” She grunted, propping herself up with her arms. She positioned herself to get the best leverage she could for thrusting _and_ for getting herself off as well. They rarely finished together, probably something that has only been achieved a handful of times. Certainly it was _years_ ago that they last came together? Before Amanda could get caught up in trying to remember, she felt Michael’s hand gripping the back of her thigh. He wanted _more_. She gave him more. Michael’s voice was muffled, his face pressed in the bedspread. “What’s that, baby?”

“I’m really fuckin’ close,” Michael said, his voice strained.

“You are?” Amanda rocked her hips against him. She was also pretty close. The hand on her thigh gripped against her, his fingers slipped under the garter belt strap. It was the slightest bit of intimacy, just his hand holding her like that, but it certainly helped keep with her thrusting. There was the sound of skin smacking against skin. Amanda was starting to get too warm, a slight sheen of sweat forming on her forehead as she barrelled toward her orgasm. Below her, she could feel Michael thrust his hips into the mattress. Even against the bed, she could hear his groans as he came. Amanda pressed the dildo inside him as she ground against the bullet vibe. She made small thrusts, her orgasm still building to its peak. Just as Michael was finished shuddering, Amanda came. It wasn’t as powerful as the first one, but it was still a good finisher. 

Amanda panted, still lightly thrusting into Michael as she came down. When she was finished, she switched off the vibrator, pulled out, and flopped onto the bed.

The two of them laid on the bed, breathing heavily.

Michael was the first to speak. “Fucking Christ.”

“You can say that again.” Amanda wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. 

“We’re gonna have to get this dry cleaned.” Michael patted the comforter. 

“You came on the bed?” Amanda laughed.

“I didn’t have anywhere else to come!” Michael turned onto his side. Amanda got a glimpse of the mess he made.

“Were you abstinent from jacking off for a month or something?” She asked, her eyes wide.

“When have I _ever_ been abstinent?” He looked down. “Good fucking god, I didn’t know it was _that_ much--”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Amanda laughed.

“I didn’t even use my fucking hands!”

“You didn’t?” 

“Didn’t have to. The strap on just made me--” Michael did a “jack off and come” motion with his hand.

“It felt _that_ good?” Amanda asked, feeling smug. She unbuckled the harness. 

“Makes me surprised it’s your first time.” 

“It _was_ my first time!”

“So you keep sayin’.” Michael said warily.

Amanda scoffed and slid the harness off of her, setting it on the end table. “I think I’ll get cleaned up. I feel so sweaty.”

“Thrusting is harder than you think it is?”

Amanda sighed. “Yes, oh wonderful husband, I take for granted how easy it is to get fucked.” She rolled her eyes. As she sat up in the bed, Michael scooted over. “What is it?”

“Nothin’.” He ran a hand over her stockinged leg. 

“ _Michael_.” She said, giving him a look. “I can’t go for round two.”

Michael laughed. “Normally I’m saying that.” He slid down on the bed. “I just wanted to give you somethin’ in return.”

“Oh?” She smiled, slinking back down on the bed again. “A thank you present for being so stubborn?”

“Sure, something like that.” Michael pushed her lacy underwear to the side and went down on her without another word. 

Amanda came two more times that night.

\--

“How was your weekend?” Dr. Simmons asked, the couple knowing exactly what she meant.

Michael and Amanda looked at each other. “It was...it was good!” Amanda said, giving a smile to Michael. 

“It actually was.” Michael said in agreement. 

“I can tell.” Dr. Simmons wrote something in her little notebook. She gestured to the two of them with her pen. “You two have a certain chemistry that’s different than it was before.” She jotted something else down. “Amanda, how did you feel when you were penetrating him?”

Michael laughed, a little embarrassed by the phrasing. 

“I felt....powerful, I think. In control. I liked it.”

“Do you feel that you often want to seek control sexually?”

Amanda considered it for a moment. “I didn’t exactly want it before. Maybe occasionally, but not like this.”

She took some notes. “Michael, how do you feel about this?”

“Shit, I mean--” Michael looked up at the ceiling to collect his thoughts. “Sex felt like the only way I _could_ be in control. The rest of my life was tryin’ not to get myself killed, but going to skin joints, patronizing working girls…that was when I could be in control.” He shook his head. “My life was a fucking mess. Everything ‘bout it, not just the sex. But I think things are different, they--they _feel_ different now. I mean, even if Mandy asked me a few years ago if she could peg me, shit would have been really different. It just feels like I got everything where it should be now.”

“Jesus, Michael.” Amanda said breathlessly. “Did I peg some empathy into you too?”

“You’ve certainly become more introspective since we started.” Dr. Simmons offered.

“Yeah, well--I guess I gained some perspective on everything.”

“All from getting penetrated, Michael?”

“Not just that, doc. Just this whole fuckin’ process made me take a step back on things. How it’s like to be on the receiving end of all that.”

“Amanda,” Dr. Simmons asked, “How do you feel it’s different?”

“It’s more tiring than I thought it would be, but it’s so carnal. To hold someone down and fuck them, be it your husband or _whoever_ , feels completely different than if you’re the one being held down.”

Dr. Simmons wrote some other notes down. “Would you two want to do it again, or just keep on trying new things?”

They looked at each other again. A smile grew on their faces. “We’ll do it again.” Amanda answered.

“Not sure about what she wants to try next, but--” Michael shrugged. “I think I’ll have a little bit more trust in her this time ‘round.”

Dr. Simmons gave them one last smile before jotting some information down.

\--

It wasn’t until a couple of weeks later that Michael met up with Franklin and Trevor. It was a long day at the studio, so he told them he’d be late. He just didn’t say _how_ late. They met up at a trendy bar, the one where the bouncer had to work overtime to check the fake IDs. Certainly not his speed, but Franklin was the one who picked it.

“It’s about fucking time you got here!” Trevor yelled over the booming music. “Frank and I were worried you faked your death again!”

Michael rolled his eyes. “ _Very_ funny, T. You been working on that one all night?”

“Oh yeah--” Trevor slung an arm around Franklin, who shrugged it off. “We’ve been workshopping it _all night_!” He wrapped his arm around Franklin tighter.

“Man, what did I tell you about the personal space bullshit?” Franklin asked, finally moving away from Trevor. He stood over near Michael, giving him a fist bump. “What are you gonna get?”

“Maybe just a beer. Or a Zima, do they still have those?”

Trevor laughed. “A _Zima_ ? Whew, you never cease to amaze me. Could you get _any_ more fruity?”

Michael gestured to Trevor’s large drink full of something that looked like Windex, although it wouldn’t surprise him if he was drinking window cleaner. “Yeah, says the guy who is drinking a blue pina colada, or whatever the fuck.”

“ _Hey!_ It’s an Aqua Velva, thank you very much! I’m sure five of these will put anyone’s liver out of commission, and I’m trying to test that theory tonight.”

Franklin eyed the dance floor while the two of them bickered, sipping at his beer. 

“They got a coat check in here?” Michael asked, unbuttoning his suit jacket. It was still plenty chilly outside, but now that he was in a club with a bunch of bodies...it was a different story.

“Does this place look like it has a _coat check?”_ Franklin laughed. “They don’t even have chairs in here, man.”

Michael sighed. “Let me drop this off in my car.” He left briefly, coat slung over his arm. When he got back to Trevor and Franklin, Trevor was laughing about something. “The fuck are you laughing at?”

“Nothin’, just surprised you can walk straight.”

“Trevor, I haven’t even ordered anything--”

“No no, not drinks.” Trevor took a big gulp of his drink. “I’m talking about _Amanda_.”

Michael felt his face get hot. “Shut the fuck up.”

Franklin shot a glance between them. “I feel like I really don’t want to know.”

“You fucking don’t because--”

“Michael’s old lady fucked him up the ass.”

Michael gave Trevor a hard shove as Franklin screwed up his face. “Man... _what_?”

“Well, you see Franklin, there comes a time in every marriage where you do all there is to do--”

“ _TREVOR!_ ” 

“Although I see she didn’t fuck the anger issues out of you, amigo.” 

Michael got closer to Trevor. “You say another fucking word and I’ll break your fucking fingers off and shove them up your ass.”

Trevor tried to keep a straight face. “Hey, don’t tempt me with a good time!”

“Why the fuck do I hang out with you two? I always learn some shit I didn’t want to know. I mean, shit...I’m gonna need to drink some of those Aqua Velvas or something. Try and forget this whole fucking conversation.”

“Join the club, man. I wish I didn’t know that either.” Trevor toasted to Franklin.

Franklin scoffed and snuck away to the bar. Michael stood there, still fuming. He made his way to leave when Trevor grabbed his arm, pulling him back.

“Oh _relax_ , Mikey. I’m just having a little fun.”

“Fuck off.”

“Listen, I’ll buy you one of these bad boys--” He held up his drink. “--and it’ll all be smooth.”

Michael thought for a moment. “Just one of ‘em, I don’t want to come home blitzed.”

Trevor rolled his eyes. How was it that he got even _more_ lame with each passing day? “Fine, you want me to buy you a Zima or some shit?”

Michael shrugged. “Or whatever’s on tap.”

Trevor lazily shot a finger gun at him and disappeared into the crowd. Michael felt a buzz in his pocket.

It was a text from Amanda.

_Are you on your way home?_

Michael started typing a message. _I’m out with T and F. I’ll keep it to a two drink minimum._

_Ok_

Then, about a minute later, she sent something else. 

_Want to try the bigger dildo tonight?_ The message came with three eggplant emojis.

“Who are ya texting?” Trevor asked right in his ear. Michael nearly dropped his phone.

“Jesus, T! Stop doing that!”

Trevor scoffed and handed Michael his beer. “I got the lowest carb beer on the menu.”

Michael gave him the finger and took a swig. He looked around. “Where’s Franklin?”

“Think he’s dancing with someone. He mentioned some girl would be here.”

“Ah, his dog trainer?” 

“Fuck if I know, man.” Trevor took a gulp at his drink.

“I didn’t think Frank was much of a dancer. Anything to get away from the two of us, huh?”

“Well I’ll probably dance later, fuck it.” Trevor finished off his drink. He had another waiting in the wings, this time with a large pineapple on the ring. “I’m assuming you’ll sit out, since it is a _young man’s_ game after all.”

Michael laughed sardonically. It wasn’t worth a response, really.

Trevor munched on the pineapple. “So you really did it, huh?”

“Did what?” Michael took a swig of his beer.

“You _know_ what, Jesus, do I have to spell it out for you?”

He absolutely knew what he meant. “You gonna continue to shit on me for it?”

“Nah, that’s an old joke now.” He tossed the rind to the floor. “Felt good, didn’t it?”

“I’m not drunk enough for this conversation, but yeah. Yeah, it felt good.”

“Told ya.”

“Yes, of course. You and your infinite wisdom.” Michael was silent for a little bit. His eyes searched the dance floor, eventually finding Frank. He was dancing with a woman around his age, all spark and shine. Must be his dog trainer. They seemed happy. He remembered being his age. Going out every night, getting fucked up, taking girls home. How things changed.

Trevor hit his arm. Michael blinked a few times, looking over at Trevor and his already half-finished drink. “You were staring off into space.”

“Shit, T. I seem to do that.”

“You didn’t used to glaze over like that. Must be the Los Santos _vibe_ that numbed you into submission.” He downed the rest of his drink. “M’gonna go dance.” He shoved his empty glass to Michael. “Get me a topper!”

“What do I look like, a fucking waiter?!” Michael yelled. Trevor was already gone in the mass of bodies. 

Michael did as he was told, resting his forearms on the bar. As he waited for a refill on Trevor’s drink, he pulled out his phone again.

He typed a message to Amanda. 

_Fuck yeah I do!_

  
  
  



End file.
